


it's a date, idiot!

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Eren Yeager, Angry Jean Kirstein, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance, Romantic Face Punching, Romantic Fluff, Sweet, Tenderness, Very fluffy, clueless!Eren, i can't believe that's a tag, the violence is only one relatively soft punch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Clueless Eren doesn’t realize that this movie night is different.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 15
Kudos: 215





	it's a date, idiot!

Eren slides into the front seat of Jean’s car. He’s excited about the movie, it’s a sequel he’s been wanting to see since the first one came out.

Jean is uncharacteristically quiet on the drive to the multiplex. There’s none of the usual ribbing about what an idiot Eren is for making him wait, about what an idiot Eren is for wanting to see this stupid blockbuster in the first place, and, of course, about what an idiot Eren is in general.

“What’s up with you, man? Are you okay?” Eren finally asks, after the first ten minutes of silence.

“What?” Jean says absently.

“Do you even want to see this movie?”

“What? Of course I do. Who doesn’t?” Jean answers scornfully. And that makes Eren feel a bit more comfortable, because it’s more like the old Jean. He hadn’t realized he was thinking of this as the “new” Jean, but he is. He casts a sidelong glance, and it’s definitely not only the silence. For one thing, Jean is dressed differently. Jean always looks put-together. Eren would never admit it out loud, but that’s one of the things he likes about Jean. But tonight he looks more polished. Nothing too fancy, but he’s wearing jeans that are… just right, and a button-down shirt which, now that Eren thinks about it, fits him really nicely, too. His hair is different too, the tips much lighter than Jean usually does them, almost white. Eren feels a little uncomfortable that he’s wearing his usual grungy t-shirt and jeans, and he doesn’t even remember the last time he brushed his hair. Maybe he should have worn something nicer? But it’s just going to the movies with Jean – they do this all the time. Why would he worry about what he was wearing for _that_?

Whatever. He decides that it’s the silence that’s making him edgy, so he flips on the radio. He can still have fun even if Jean is in a funky mood. He spins the dial around, trying to find a good song. This helps a lot, because once Eren has found a song he likes, Jean flips to a different station entirely, saying “Who gave you radio privileges, idiot? My car, my music.” Soon, they’re wrestling for control of the dial and letting fly the usual insults about each other’s musical tastes, and Eren feels a whole lot better because he’s back on familiar ground.

Things aren’t quite normal, though. Jean has already bought the tickets, and he doesn’t ask Eren to cough up when he gives them to the ticket taker. There’s even something almost proprietary about the way he says, “For both of us,” as he hands them over. Eren gives him a look, but Jean isn’t looking back. All Eren can see are Jean’s very red ears.

For some reason, Jean directs Eren into the theater to save their seats, even though the tickets are reserved seating. Jean comes in a bit later carrying not only an enormous tub of popcorn, but also Kit Kats (Eren’s absolute favorite) and Eren’s preferred drink. When Eren fishes out his wallet to pay him back, Jean only waves his hand away and mumbles, “Don’t worry about it.”

The previews are pretty good, though, and Jean can’t help making snarky comments about the crass commercialism of all the upcoming movies, which is also familiar and grounding. Eren lets his uneasiness wash away. The reason he’s here is to enjoy the movie, right?

Once the movie starts, everything’s fine. It’s nonstop action packaged in an entertainingly convoluted plot. Eren gratefully lets real life slip away into nothing as he gets swept away in the story.

Except. About halfway through the movie, Eren feels a slight pressure against his hand. The feeling is so gradual that it’s only after it’s been there awhile that he consciously notices it. All at once, he becomes hyper-aware, because it’s Jean’s pinky finger, and it’s moving oh-so-slowly against Eren’s in a gentle stroking motion. What the hell? Is Jean doing it on purpose? It doesn’t make any kind of sense. What should Eren do?

“Personal space, man,” is what he says, shoving Jean’s hand away as he normally would. However, instead of shoving back and wrestling for control of the armrest, Jean recoils, withdrawing as far away from Eren as he can. He also turns his head to the side, so Eren can’t see his face. Eren gets a very strange, uncomfortable feeling, as though he’s done something seriously wrong, like insulted Jean’s mother. But he didn’t, did he? All he did was claim ownership of the armrest, right? Like he normally would.

Luckily, at that moment, the truck carrying high-tech explosives is rammed from the side by a tank that seemingly rose up out of the ground, and Eren’s attention is wholly taken up by the movie. The rest of the time passes uneventfully, and Eren sinks blissfully into explosion after explosion, as the onscreen body count rises exponentially.

As they exit the movie, instead of their usual back-and-forth, there is, once again, silence. Eren can’t take it.

“Why are you acting so weird tonight?” he blurts out, once they are in the parking lot.

“I’m not acting weird!” Jean says. And even this is weird, because he says it defensively. Old Jean would bark out something along the lines of, “You’re the one who’s fucking weird, idiot,” while knocking into Eren with his shoulder. Instead, this strange, new Jean steps _away_ from Eren and, like before, turns his head to the side, so all Eren can see are the platinum-blonde streaks.

“You _are_ , man. You’re so mopey. And what’s with the – the clothes, and buying my ticket and snacks and stuff, and your hair, and – and – “ does he dare mention the finger-touching as well?

Jean has turned to face him, and Eren is surprised to see that he is bright red.

“Shit,” Jean mutters, but to himself, not to Eren.

Eren stares at him, utterly confused. Jean isn’t hitting back, he’s not insulting Eren. He looks – helpless, and a little bit lost.

“I… it was meant…” Jean shrugs weakly, as if this will somehow clarify things.

Eren continues to stare. This is a Jean he has never encountered before, this bumbling, tongue-tied piece of limp knitting unraveling before his eyes.

Eren’s mind is running freely now, hunting for clues that might explain what on earth is going on. He trawls back to the beginning, last week, when Jean brought up the movie in the first place. Now that Eren thinks about it, Jean had put it a bit oddly at the time. What had he said? Right. He remembers now. _Can I take you to the movies next Friday?_ were Jean’s words.

_Can I take you?_

Eren’s eyes widen.

_Can I take you?_

Shock waves ripple through him.

_Can I take you?_

“Was this – was this a – a _date_?” he asks incredulously. “Were you taking me out on a _date_?”

Jean’s face collapses. One moment it’s red and plump with nerves, and the next it’s dead white and caved in. Then it stiffens into familiar lines of anger. 

“Fuck!” he says, and Eren can tell he means it. However, when he next speaks, there is only a flat blankness. “You can drive yourself home. Have my car back before tomorrow afternoon. Leave these in the mailbox.”

He tosses the keys at Eren, who catches them reflexively.

Jean stuffs his hands into his pockets and spins around. The shoulders in the beautifully fitting shirt (a _date_ shirt!) are tense and hunched over.

By the time Eren unfreezes, Jean is nowhere to be seen. It’s a three mile walk home, and it’s 11 pm. _What the hell, Kirstein?_ Eren spends a good half hour circling the area in the car before he gives up and heads back.

It’s one in the morning by the time Jean finally approaches his building. He took a meandering route home, trying (unsuccessfully) to shake the events of the evening from his mind. Most particularly, Eren saying, “Was this – was this a – a _date_?” with such dismay.

It’s no use. The memory is burned into his brain. Shame and anger are battling for supremacy in his mind. Shame at himself – what was he thinking, opening himself up to that moron? Anger at Eren – _why_ is he such a moron? But mostly anger at himself. He had known, deep-down, that Eren hadn’t understood that he was asking for something different this time around. But he had pretended that Eren _had_ understood, because it was too difficult and frightening to spell things out for him. He had told himself, airily, that if Eren didn’t already know, he’d figure it out quickly enough. No one could be _that_ dense. It would all be fine.

Of course Eren _was_ that dense. Of course it wasn’t fine.

All Jean wants is to wash tonight away with a scalding shower and slide into bed. He’s tired enough that he hopes he’ll fall asleep easily.

Or not.

Eren is sitting on the front steps of his building. Jean stops, confused. Is he real? Or an apparition?

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Eren says belligerently. 

He is indeed real – real and _very_ angry. The words filter through Jean’s treacly brain. He pulls out his phone. It’s still in silent mode from the movie. Seven missed calls and twelve texts. Jean thumbs through them.

_You can’t leave like that._

_Answer your phone._

_Where the hell are you? I’m picking you up._

_Answer your fucking phone._

_Where are you?!!!!!!!!??_

_ANSWER YOUR GODDAMNED PHONE!!!!_

And so on. Jean can feel the irritation blasting out of the device in waves.

“I thought you’d been mugged!” Eren says furiously.

Jean doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to carry Eren’s anger as well as his own right now. He doesn’t have it in him to have anything more to do with Eren tonight.

“What’s it to you?” he says, using the same, blank voice from earlier. “It’s none of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business,” says Eren, jumping up from the steps.

“No, it’s not,” says Jean. “I gave you the car so you could drive home. How I got home was not your concern.” Why is he even engaging? It must be an automatic reflex where Eren is concerned. Time to disengage.

He steps around Eren and starts backing carefully towards the building, keeping a wary eye on him.

Even so, he doesn’t see the punch in time to block it. He is stopped in his tracks, as much startled as hurt. They haven’t had a fist fight in years, not a real one, not since high school. He winces. It wasn’t one of Eren’s strongest punches, not by a long shot, but it was strong enough. He’ll have a nice bruise to show for it tomorrow. What a fitting end to the whole, dismal evening.

Instead of hitting back, Jean pauses. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about fighting. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.

His movements seem to settle Eren, too, because Eren looks at his fist, still upraised, and an embarrassed expression crosses his face. The fist drops. 

There is a long silence.

“I didn’t realize that it was a date,” Eren says at last.

Jean snorts. _Obviously_. “Yes. I know.” He’s finding it very hard to stay angry now that Eren is standing in front of him, looking – helpless, and a little bit lost. He sighs. “I wasn’t as clear as I could have been. I was hoping you would get it anyway. It was a stupid idea. I’m sorry.”

Eren steps towards him, and Jean sees the anger back on his face. What?! Jean said he was sorry. He’s doing his best to make the whole thing go away. Eren should be grateful.

“Don’t fucking apologize for taking me out on a date, Kirstein,” says Eren.

He takes a step closer, and Jean falls back. That particular glint in Eren’s eye is invariably followed by a right hook, and Jean’s face is already throbbing with pain.

Eren bites his lip and takes another step. It’s not only anger in his face. There’s something else there, too, something Jean can’t identify. Jean tries to back up further, but he runs up against the wall of the building. He feels a touch of panic . It’s never good to be trapped between an enraged rhinoceros and a brick wall. 

Eren’s face moves closer. Jean doesn’t understand. What’s Eren doing? Is he cornering Jean so he can rain blows on him? He’s so close now that Jean is going cross-eyed trying to keep him in sight. I’s only when Eren closes his eyes that it occurs to Jean what is actually happening. He barely has time to shut his own eyes. It’s a relief when he does, because finally the thoughts churning in his head turn off. Or maybe they short-circuit, because Eren kisses him.

_Eren kisses him!_

Eren kisses too hard, his lips bumping painfully into Jean’s bruised mouth. Eren is kissing Jean so hard that he’s shaking. The hands that are clutching Jean’s elbows are trembling; even Eren’s lips are vibrating.

In a moment of piercing clarity, Jean realizes that Eren is not trembling with passion. Eren is … _afraid_. That was the other thing he had seen on Eren’s face: fear. The punch had been thrown out of fear. Eren was afraid Jean would... disappear. Which means – which means – Jean can barely register the thought – that _maybe Eren wants Jean, too_. The kissing certainly supports this notion. 

Something inside Jean that has been tense all night, tense since he first asked Eren out, perhaps tense for years, eases. If that’s how Eren feels, how he _really_ feels...

He grabs Eren’s shaking hands and plants them firmly on his own waist, locking the two of them together. He lifts his hands to Eren’s face and holds it, gently but firmly. Eren’s eyes are still closed. A wave of tenderness sweeps over Jean at the sight. He leans down and brushes his lips across the closed eyes: soft, sweet kisses. He moves on to kiss Eren’s cheeks, his nose, along his jaw. At the same time, his hands trail through Eren’s hair, down the sides of his neck, gently stroking the length of his arms, then back up again, in endless, steady, loops.

Eren is like a twitching, raw, thoroughbred, and Jean slowly, painstakingly, tenderly stills him; he can feel Eren’s muscles uncoil under his fingertips. 

Only then does he bring a hand back up to carefully tilt Eren’s chin. Eren’s lips part beneath his, and Jean lets out a low moan at the feel of Eren's tongue sliding against his own. 

At the sound, Eren gives a desperate whimper, and his fingers tighten on Jean’s waist. Jean groans and pulls away, leaning his head back against the wall to catch his breath. At the same time, he yanks Eren into a fierce hug, squashing him tightly against his chest. _Shit._ He had had no idea how good it would feel, kissing Eren. How much it would affect him.

“Are we dating now?” Eren asks, his voice muffled by Jean’s body. And it turns out Jean isn’t quite as confident as he might have hoped to be. Because instead of giving a strong affirmative, he says, obliquely, “If that’s what you want.” As he waits for Eren’s reply, his heart in his mouth, he can’t help bending down to kiss Eren’s hair, to run his fingers lightly along the back of Eren’s neck.

Eren’s head shoots up, narrowly missing Jean’s face. “What kind of lame ass answer is that, Jean?” Even though the words are both insulting and tinged with the anger that is always ready to surge up in Eren at the least provocation, Jean can’t help shivering with delight at hearing his name on Eren’s lips. Eren continues, “Yes, that’s what I want! What do you think _this_ is about?” He gestures between the two of them.

Jean bites back a laugh, riding the surge of dizzy happiness welling up in him.

“Good,” he says. He punctuates the words with a sharp kiss and adds, in warning, "But don’t think that's going to get you radio privileges."

Eren grins, all his trembling uncertainty gone, and wrenches Jean back down to him. He crashes into Jean, giving him kiss after hard, purposeful kiss, murmuring his name over and over again. 

And Jean is completely and utterly lost.


End file.
